


us, through it all

by ileavetheroomsmiling



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Thomas (Maze Runner), Found Family, Gay Newt (Maze Runner), M/M, Multi, Newt (Maze Runner) Lives, Pansexual Minho (Maze Runner), Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Queer Themes, crying i can't believe that's actually canon now, that one is fanon for literally so much of the fandom can we please make it canonical on here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28062207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ileavetheroomsmiling/pseuds/ileavetheroomsmiling
Summary: Newt, Minho, and Thomas from pre-series to post-canon. They learn themselves and each other.
Relationships: Minho/Newt (Maze Runner), Minho/Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner), Minho/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36
Collections: Maze Runner Secret Santa 2020, Pieces of Thominewt





	1. not just you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thomasnewtminho29](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thomasnewtminho29/gifts).



> written for the [Maze Runner Secret Santa 2020](https://mazerunnersecretsanta.tumblr.com)! thank you to the wonderful mods for organizing!
> 
> the **wish requests/prompts** were “Minewt pre books/movies, “Newt lives!au,” and “Thominho/Thominewt canon movies or books” and this hits all of those while mostly drawing from book canon. giftee, i hope you like it :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt has trouble with not remembering things the other Gladers are. Minho lets him know there's nothing to worry about.

Newt sat down roughly under his favorite tree, the one a few yards behind the patch of dirt he was working on gardening in earlier that day. It was tall without being dizzying, and its trunk was just wide enough to lean up against; it could fit two people if they sat squished together shoulder-to-shoulder.

He crossed his legs and sighed. He felt bad for leaving, but he just felt so _off_. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, not after he spent an hour sitting up with Alby after he came to Newt having had a bad dream. Newt didn’t resent it (of course not, he would do anything for his friends), but he was just plain tired today.

He hoped no one would come looking, asking for explanations and prying. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t even know why he got upset, how could he hope to explain it to someone else?

The half of a sandwich he had grabbed before he bolted out the side door wasn’t holding up too well in his hand. He finished it in a few bites and wished he had some water to wash it down. That would require going back inside, though, and he definitely wasn’t going to do that right now. They would _ask_ , and he wouldn’t know in the slightest how to answer.

Apparently, he wouldn’t be maintaining this solitude for long. Leaves crunched in the pattern of footsteps behind him, gaining speed as they approached.

“Are you okay?” Here was Minho, asking. “One minute you were at the table across the room from me and the next minute you were gone. Frypan said you just walked out in the middle of a conversation.”

“I’m fine.”

“Talk,” Minho said. Minho undid his backpack harness and pulled out a container of water. He held it out to Newt. “...if you want,” he added, still insistent, but less intense.

Newt rolled his eyes and took a drink. “Zart was talking about remembering having a girlfriend. Nothing specific. Just in the same way we all remember having parents or whatever.”

“And that freaked you out so much you walked out of lunch because…”

“I just don’t remember anything _like_ that.”

“We’re not all remembering things at the same pace. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I mean—I don’t remember anything like that because I don’t think there ever _was_ anything like that.”

“Oh. We’re all only, what, sixteen, seventeen? Nothing wrong with not having had a girlfriend yet. Before.”

“Minho.”

“What?”

Newt hesitated. “Do you remember anyone like that? Like Zart remembered his girlfriend?”

“I don’t think so. I feel like I vaguely remember _crushes_ more than anything.”

“Oh.” Newt mentally prepared himself for a memory loss-defying description of all the girls Minho had liked over the years. Newt was about to get jealous of half-remembered girls and he knew it.

“I remember a boy with the _cutest_ laugh. And this girl who always told the funniest jokes. And someone who wasn’t either, and they had the best singing voice in the whole world!” He smiled.

 _Oh._

After waiting a good minute, Minho prompted, “Newt? Are you good?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just.” He didn’t think he could say it. “Me too, I think. Um. Boys. Yeah.”

“Oh! Newt. Is that what you were worried about?”

“I just didn’t think anyone else was…”

“Dude. I think there are like two straight boys here, total. _Maybe_ three.” He laughed. Newt looked skeptical. “No, really!” Minho assured. “Last week, Ben told me he remembered bringing a boy to a school dance. Clint and Jeff flirt with each other like every five seconds. Also, the new greenie _definitely_ has a crush on Gally.”

“How do I keep missing all of this! I talk to everyone almost every day!” Newt wondered how he hadn’t caught on to any of this. He figured it was because he didn’t even want to think about it himself, so maybe he was unconsciously ignoring it in general so he wouldn’t have to actually think about it at all.

“And right after you walked out just now,” Minho added, “Frypan kept talking to Zart and said he remembered having a boyfriend.”

Well. Newt was most certainly not the only one then.

Minho continued, “Remember that time we were all debating whether there would be another maze with just girls? And Alby brought up how not everyone is either a girl or a boy?” He looked over and Newt, who nodded. “At dinner that night, Winston and Zart both talked about how they felt like that. They said they didn’t really know exactly what their genders were, just that they didn’t really feel like boys.”

“Wow. Alright,” Newt said. This was so _good_. “Yeah, I’m gay.”

Minho smiled, genuine and warm. “Cool. I’m pan.”

Newt knew it had been a while since they had emerged out of pure survival mode, back in the beginning when all of their focus went to acclimating themselves and developing rules and routines. Now, they had things set up. He could just _be_. They had themselves, their Glade, this family of them all.

The people who put them there might’ve only meant to leave them with their names, but Newt knew that he and the others kept, knew, and cherished more of themselves than those evil people would ever be able to handle.


	2. endurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they get back to the Berg to find Newt gone, Minho doesn't know what to do. Thomas and the others help him reinvigorate his sense of hope.

Minho turned over on the cot in the little living space on the Berg. It wasn’t comfortable. Maybe it was just him. He had been sitting in here alone ever since he yelled at Thomas, Brenda, and Jorge about how they weren’t giving up on Newt, that Newt was more important than saving the world.

He knew Thomas felt that same priority for Newt deep down, but Minho was frustrated that, apparently, he was the only one willing to put a voice to that conviction.

They had rushed back into the ship, and he had noticed that something was off right away. He knew they shouldn’t have left Newt alone while they went out. He had been doing fine (or at least that’s what he said—Minho knew otherwise) and didn’t want them to upset him, but there must have been a better solution.

When his panicked sprint-fast search of the Berg had culminated in his discovery of Newt’s note, his heart had stopped for a moment.

_Thank you for being my friends._

Newt couldn’t be gone. They would get him back.

“Minho?” The soft concern in Thomas’ voice was unwelcome. Minho wasn’t in the mood.

“Yeah?”

“Can you let me in now?”

“...”

“You’ve been in there for an hour. Please.”

He was so tired. He was tired and worried and he just couldn’t give Thomas the reassurance he knew he would need right now. The reassurance that Thomas deserved. They were supposed to be there for each other. “I don’t want to talk about it” he started. “We just need a plan.”

“Okay,” Thomas responded through the door. Minho was pretty sure Thomas was sitting down outside with his back to it.

Minho dragged himself up and went to unlock it. His head rushed from how long he had been lying down. He figured he was also pretty dehydrated. It was just the lack of drinkable water, though. He _definitely_ hadn’t been crying.

He stepped back as Thomas entered.

Thomas took a deep breath in. “What do you want to do?”

“What do you think?!” Minho returned. He was angry. He didn’t want to be angry at Thomas, but he didn’t know where else to put it right now. Newt was gone and Minho was worried, more worried than he’d let himself be in a long time.

Thomas didn’t inflame Minho’s tone. He sounded tired, but responded calmly. “Jorge and Brenda are already planning a way to get us to where they think he’ll be.”

That was good, but it wasn’t good enough. Even once they got Newt back, they still had to deal with the Flare. “He’s not immune, Thomas!” Minho yelled. “We have to figure something out. He can’t… We can’t lose him.” _I can’t lose him_ , Minho declined to add.

Thomas met his gaze. “I know what he means to you. I know what you mean to me and what I mean to you. I know what we all mean to each other.”

Minho didn’t respond. If he let himself get emotional now… 

“Let’s go back out and talk to them,” Thomas suggested. Minho guessed he probably just wanted to get him out of this room and back into company.

Begrudgingly, Minho made his way out to the common area and Thomas followed him.

Jorge was waiting for them. “I heard you two in there. What do you mean, ‘he’s not immune’?” he asked, voice oddly confused. 

Minho was puzzled and it gave Thomas a second to respond to Jorge. “WICKED told us. He and about five of the other Gladers weren’t immune.”

Jorge was slightly condescending in his response. “And you all _believed_ them?”

“I mean—”

Minho interrupted Thomas. “Are you saying there’s a chance Newt could actually be immune?”

Jorge nodded his head rapidly. “Yes! Of course! A while ago, when the Right Arm first formed, there was some intel going around that seemed like WICKED had some kids who had partial immunity to the virus.”

Minho couldn’t believe it. He didn’t _want_ to, didn’t want to get his hopes up. It was almost too good to be true. He took a second to think it through, though, and it made sense. Why would WICKED waste years of testing and high-demand resources on kids that would eventually—fatally—catch the Flare?

Jorge continued, “They rejected all of the non-immune kids in their search for candidates. The people who leaked the info told the Right Arm that in addition to the completely immune people, there might be kids who only experience a minor version of the Flare’s symptoms and effects. I thought you all would’ve heard about that, that’s why I didn’t say anything about it when we left him here.”

Thomas looked as shocked as Minho felt. Thomas took a step toward Jorge, “So you mean... You really mean there’s a good chance he’ll be okay?”

“If we get him back and can give him some semblance of medical care—nothing fancy, just letting him rest and keeping him hydrated—for the period he’s going through it, I think he should be just fine.”

“Wow,” Thomas exclaimed. “That’s… that’s amazing. We need to go now. We need to get him back.”

“We will,” Jorge assured. “Brenda should be finished up mapping a route now.” Jorge smiled and went back into the pilot area.

Minho felt shaky with excitement and renewed hope. He looked over at Thomas. They hugged, and Thomas matched his relieved exhale. “Let’s go get him back.”


	3. to exhale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas reflects on life in the Safe Haven and how he, Minho, and Newt make things matter for themselves and with each other.

Thomas grabbed his plate and got Newt a refill on his water. Everyone in the Safe Haven was celebrating their two years of living free from WICKED, free from the flare, free from the death and destruction that terrified them without respite.

It still haunted them, though. Some had been in Mazes. Some had been regular people trying desperately to keep their families alive. Some had been in the resistance, pouring their skills to power up the Right Arm. The exact circumstances of their journeys to the Safe Haven differed, but the intersections were what made all of them a family.

Thomas, Minho, and Newt shared a living space. No one really called them ‘houses.’ What they had managed to build were surely sufficient dwellings—Gally really outdid himself managing the construction—but they really considered the Safe Haven as a whole their home. Home was each other: alive, safe, and supported.

And happy. Happy, truly, most of the time. There wasn’t anything wrong with less pleasant emotions, though. They came, every so often. More often than anyone would like, but no less often than anyone could expect given the trauma and trials of their years surviving the conditions of a scorched Earth.

He got back to the dining area and took his spot across from Newt and next to Minho. Minho welcomed him back and Newt thanked him for the water. Harriet, Sonya, and Aris also joined them at the table. A few tables away, he saw Frypan and Gally, joined by some Group B members and other scorch survivors. Thomas felt so lucky to be able to share this life with the people he cared about; he knew how unlikely it was that any of them were meant to survive besides WICKED’s “final candidates.” 

Minho turned to his right to say something to Harriet, and Thomas couldn’t help but notice the tattoo on his neck. A few months after they had all made it to the Safe Haven, one of the non-Maze survivors quietly mentioned that they were an artist who knew “do it yourself” tattoo techniques and offered to cover up what the remaining Maze kids had branding their necks.

“PROPERTY OF WICKED” turned into flowers, landscapes, and unique patterns. Subject group letters and numbers became smiley faces, animals, and stars. Jamie, the artist, saved the titles for last in their process of covering up or editing the kids’ tattoos.

Thomas had kept insisting that he wanted to keep "To be killed by Group B" for the comedic value of the irony of it all. Every so often, he would sarcastically ask Sonya or Harriet if they were planning on murdering him today. It became sort of an inside joke, and the teasing nature of it all did alleviate Thomas of his remaining distrust of the Group B members. Eventually, though, he realized he was now using it more to deflect the fear he had felt upon first hearing the other Gladers read the title to him, the disgust at being labeled disposable “property” by people who saw them as nothing more than components of a science experiment.

Minho, "The Leader," had felt that covering up his tattoo would be some sort of betrayal of his responsibilities, here now and back then. In their adjustment to the Safe Haven, he and Newt had spent a long time talking about their transfer of power before leading everyone out into the Scorch; Newt was already struggling with the freshness of Alby’s death (not that everyone else wasn’t) and the designation of Minho as the seemingly true leader was all it had taken for him to plead with Minho to switch. Minho shouldered that important charge and had Newt to back him up through it all. In the end, though, after a long time remembering what relaxation felt like thanks to the Safe Haven, Minho decided he would rather make his own reputation, no longer feeling held to the label that those awful people had thrust upon him.

“The Glue” was the last subject title to be covered by Jamie’s steady hands and self-made dye. After Newt came back from their place when he got the WICKED property label and his group letter and number covered, he told Minho and Thomas that he wasn’t going to do anything about “The Glue.” At that point, Minho and Thomas had already gotten their WICKED tattoos dealt with in full. It took a combined effort of the two of them, Sonya, Harriet, and the rest of the remaining Gladers to convince Newt that he wasn’t failing them by no longer holding himself to the self-sacrificial levels of selflessness he had adjusted to over the years. They told him that it wasn’t all on him to keep them together; they all had each other and the whole community of the Safe Haven as support. That he was allowed to prioritize himself for a change. He was able to let go of those impossible self-imposed standards of keeping everyone completely well all the time.

Thomas was more than halfway through his meal now. He didn’t mind keeping a content silence while he explored his thoughts and memories. He was happy just to be surrounded by the people he loved. The people who loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! i've been in tmr fandom for over six years at this point and am happy to finally write something for it now that i've begun writing fic :) socials are in my profile, come yell about tmr with me!


End file.
